Tejohn reassembled the alligaunts’ piles, although he didn’t take the time to make it as pretty as they had. Then he put together a new pile of seventeen, nineteen, then twenty-three (since twenty-one could be broken down into three even piles), then twenty-five.
Satisfied, he went into the house. His food was ready, finally, so he began spooning his makeshift stew into a bowl. Great Way, but it tasted good. All it needed was salt for flavor and rice to make it rest in the belly. As he sat and ate, he looked around the room at the bundles of sticks and arrows lying around loose. It was a new, strange way to view things, as equal amounts all piled together. He had ten fingers, five on each hand. Ten toes, five on each foot. Together, they made twenty.
Tejohn set his bowl down, went out onto the plateau, and found two more stones he could add to his final pile, making it twenty-seven. Checking it, he discovered that wouldn’t work, either, so he settled on twenty-nine. Was this the test? Tricky.
After that, he finished his meal, stuffed the remaining jerky into his pack and set out again along the path.
The tower was close. He would reach it tomorrow if he moved quickly or the day after if he ran into problems. The path was not flat or easy, but he had not come to any dead ends.
He expected to come across fortifications designed to protect the king’s brother quite soon. He doubted he’d find armed troops there, not in these times, but a wall or barricade would still be difficult to pass.
Then there was the king’s brother himself. Tejohn knew there were scholars who lived in the wilderness, researching magic in seclusion. Tejohn knew those scholars had servants to take care of them. And of course, scholars had strict rules about the use of their magic so they wouldn’t go hollow.
The real question--the question he had been afraid to ask before now--was this: had Ghoron Italga, scholar prince of the ruined empire and brother to King Ellifer Italga, kept to those rules way out here at the edge of the world, or had he fallen into madness?
At the start of their journey, Lar had clearly believed Ghoron had been strict with himself and he expected to find him healthy. Now, after every awful thing that Tejohn had experienced on this journey, the idea that he would arrive and be welcomed by a sane, kindly host seemed absurd. In fact, he thought it would be a wild stroke of luck to find the servants still alive. The rumors Totewater shared with him back in Saltstone--while still only rumors--were not encouraging.
Tejohn couldn’t take any chances. He planned to sneak up on him and, instead of killing him the way he had killed Doctor Rexler, overpower and bind him.
How long would it take Prince Ghoron to teach him to cast that spell? Not too long, he hoped. Not too long.
Tejohn glanced eastward down the long passage of the Sweeps. From this westernmost vantage point, it really did look as if this long marshy valley had been gouged out of a single gigantic mountain range.
Then he saw a black dot in the sky, flying low over the marshlands. It was immediately obvious that it was not a ruhgrit, being taller than it was wide, but it took longer than it should have for Tejohn to realize it was a flying cart.
What’s more, it was heading toward Tempest Pass.
He leaped up onto the nearest boulder and began to wave his spear and shout. Lar is in there. It was absurd, of course. Lar Italga couldn’t be in that cart, because he’d been transformed into a grunt and trapped in a pit. It couldn’t be. Yet Tejohn believed it without a shred of doubt. Maybe it was madness, but he believed it.
The cart changed direction, angling away from the direct west-by-northwest path it had been on. For a moment, Tejohn thought they had seen him at that incredible distance, but it quickly became clear that they were simply moving too fast for a safe approach to the tower. The cart curved from left to right across his field of vision, circling the western end of the Sweeps in a huge arc to let as much of their momentum fade as possible.
Luckily, this new arc brought them very close. He waved his shield and spear, shouting as they passed overhead, and he saw two faces appear over the rail. Both had long hair that whipped in their faces, one dark, the other blond. Fire take him, had the Indregai Alliance gotten their hands on a flying cart and a trained driver?
They circled around again, this time going slow enough to approach the tower but clearly moving toward him instead. Tejohn scoured the area around him, looking for a flattish place they could land but finding only jagged black boulders from the cliffs behind him to the lake’s edge before him.
The cart’s driver did not even attempt to land. The vehicle crept forward, slowly sinking to his level. The blond face peered over the rail again, but they were moving slow enough that he recognized her. It was the little Indregai princess he had left at Fort Samsit months ago. Song only knew how she’d survived.
“Tyr Treygar!” she cried, then turned to someone at the back of the cart. “See? I told you! It is Tyr Treygar!”
The cart lowered far enough that he could see the driver. Great Way, it was Cazia Freewell. “It’s good to see you again, my tyr. If you’re heading for the tower, you’re welcome to ride the rest of the way with us.”
“I accept. Thank you, Miss Freewell. I’m grateful for the offer.”
“Good. Kinz, would you...”
The third in their group--a tall gorgeous young woman with the dark skin of a herding clan--reached down and accepted his pack. He passed his shield and spear next, feeling self-conscious as how dirty he was and how badly he smelled. She offered to help him into the cart, but he muttered, “I’m not that old,” and climbed in himself. “I’m sorry,” he said immediately. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“An apology!” the princess exclaimed. “You have changed since we last spoke with you.”
Tejohn wished he could remember the child’s name, but all he could recall was that it was an endless string of syllables. “All of Kal-Maddum has changed. I found myself hard-pressed to change with it.”
“Look.” The tall one they had called Kinz pointed southward along the trail. There were alligaunts moving among the rocks toward them, their greenish black snouts showing bristling teeth.
“Up we get,” Cazia Freewell said. She operated the lever to make the cart float straight up. The alligaunts stopped in their pursuit and reared up on their hind legs. It was an odd thing to see, and Tejohn nearly swore in surprise. While the green hide on their backs was so dark it was nearly black, their bellies were the color of fresh apricots. Their long heads--which were rounder and heavier than they first appeared--lifted until their snouts pointed at the sky and their forelegs reached toward him, long claws clutching.
The gorgeous young woman looked him in the eye. “The lakeboys must have been very hungry to make to pursue you so far.”
He sighed, thought of his wife and children, then said, “Thank you all for picking me up. I didn’t even realize they were trailing me, and I much prefer your company to theirs.”
“Tyr Treygar,” the Freewell girl interrupted, “what is the situation at the tower?”
He suddenly noticed the bandage on her left hand. She seemed to be handling the levers that worked the carts with ease, but he wondered how recent her injury was. “At Tempest Pass? I don’t know. I haven’t been there yet.”
“What?” Her voice echoed off the rocks and the black wooden disc above them. “How can that be? You left--”
Tejohn held up his hand to silence her. She did, stopping her outburst with a deep breath and a respectful nod. She had changed, too. “Our cart was destroyed on the first night. I’ve been afoot since, and it’s been a long trail of blood and heartache.”
“Is Lar dead?”
He could see how difficult that question was for her, but she hadn’t hesitated to ask it. “He wasn’t when I last saw him. He became a grunt three days after we left, and I trapped him in a pit in a mining camp well east of here. I set a man to watch over for him, but that was months ago.”
“Any other news?” the princess asked.
Tejohn tol
d them about the mad scramble for scholars, about the military strikes the tyrs made against each other, about the silence from Simblin lands, about the great distances the grunts had traveled to spread The Blessing throughout the empire.
But most of all, he explained that there was no empire anymore. The princess and the herding girl exchanged a knowing, almost jubilant look, but Tejohn made clear that there was only violence and chaos in its place.
“There’s worse yet,” he said. “I’ve seen huge, flightless birds roaming the Southern Barrier, passing on The Blessing. I believe they’re infected ruhgrit.”
“Ruhgrit?” Cazia asked.
“The gigantic eagles,” Tejohn said. How many times had he explained that name on his trip? He wished he had never tried to build up Lar’s reputation with it. “After Lar killed one and feasted on its heart, we began to call them that. It’s ‘chief’s meal’ in Chin Chin-ro.”
This time all three girls exchanged a look. “We’ll probably have to change that name,” Cazia said. “We negotiated a sort of truce with them.”
“Actually,” the princess said, “Cazia did.”
So, the eagles were intelligent, too? What a strange world. And that Cazia had worked out a truce was impressive, even if she didn’t have the right. “Happily, the good news is that the transformed birds lose their wings, so they can’t fly across the Straim to attack your people, princess. That part of Kal-Maddum is safe for now.”
The girl sighed. “Unfortunately, the Indregai serpents do grow wings when they receive The Blessing. Nowhere is safe.”
Fire and Fury, it was all happening so fast. “My wife and children...” he said, but his throat tightened before he could continue that sentence, and it took him a few moments to speak. “My wife and children should be in Beargrunt. If you’ve been to Indrega, did you see them? Are they safe?”
The princess shook her head. “We did not go that far south. The cart had been brought north to Goldgrass Hill, and that is where we started this trip to Tempest Pass. I am sorry. If it is any comfort, as of three days ago, there were no reports of any grunts in that area.”
Tejohn sighed. “Thank you. It’s been so long since I had word of them, I tried to assume the best, but...”
“But you have been seeing the world make to collapse around you,” the older girl said.
He nodded. “How did you get this cart? And how did you get out of Samsit? How do things fare in the east?”
“We escaped from the fort by sneaking, mostly,” the Freewell girl said, “while the grunts were tearing the place apart. We got the cart by trading for it from Ivy’s father and the Warden of the Western Frontier.”
“Trade? What could you possibly trade that would be worth...?” Suddenly, Tejohn didn’t want to finish that sentence. She’d given them magic. Of course she had.
“I realize that I broke my oath,” Cazia Freewell said. Her expression was somber. “It was an oath I took to Ellifer and Amlian, to the scholars of the tower, and to Lar. I didn’t break it lightly.”
Tejohn stared over her shoulder at the Southern Barrier. Out here, it was almost as though the empire had never existed at all. “Song knows what choices you made and why. It’s not my place to judge.”
“Not even as a tyr of the empire?” the princess asked. The others had called her Ivy but he would not use a nickname for her uninvited.
“What empire?” he asked in return. He realized they were watching his hands, so he set his spear and shield on the floor of the cart. “What magic did you give them? Just out of curiosity.”
“Two stones. One was a translation stone so they could understand the speech of the serpents.” Tejohn did his best to keep his expression neutral, but it wasn’t good enough. The Freewell girl wasn’t fooled. “It’s not like that. It’s not so they could coordinate military maneuvers or however you talk about armies. The serpents have been planning a revolt.”
“What?”
“It is true,” the princess said reluctantly. “I did not want to believe it, but it is true. We were in the habit of saying anything at all in front of the serpents, because they could not understand us. It turns out they were doing the same thing.”
Tejohn was surprised to see that the little girl’s face was flushed bright red in embarrassment. What she had to be embarrassed about, he couldn’t imagine. “What were they saying?”
“That they should wait for the final hatching before they started to eat us. Apparently, they have been using these last few years of peace to build an army. If The Blessing had not come, they would have attacked sometime next summer. Now we are not sure what they will do. My father and cousin were very upset, but I do not know how we will fight the grunts at the bank of the Straim and the serpents on our northeastern borders. My cousin’s only advantage is that the serpents do not yet know we can understand their language.”
“They chant,” Cazia said, looking a little distracted. “Is that strange? They don’t talk to each other so much as chant the same things over and over, with a call and response. Who would have expected serpents to chant?”
For one absurd moment, Tejohn imagined the Evening People listening to the serpents, judging their hissing chants like a performance at a Festival. “Two translation stones, then?”
The Freewell girl got an impish grin. “No. The second stone is something else. It takes away a person’s magic. Yes, if a scholar touches it, he or she can’t cast a spell for a short time.”
“How short?”
“More than a day for me. The best part is that it is a cure for hollowed-out scholars.”
Tejohn’s immediate impulse was to scold her. Instead, he asked, “How did you ever test that?”
The Freewell girl glanced at his hip, and he realized he had unconsciously laid his hand on his knife. He moved it immediately. She did not answer right away.
Chapter 11
They approached the tower at something like a crawl. Perhaps it felt slower than it was, but for most of the day, Tejohn was sure they were barely matching the pace of a double-time march.
He did see that the paths he had been following came to an abrupt end well before they reached the Tempest Pass. There was a series of cliffs and rockfalls that utterly blocked the way; to finish the journey without a cart, he would have needed a boat to navigate the northernmost part of Lake Windmark or he would have had to clamber over treacherous terrain.
The tower itself stood out against the rock behind it because it was made of the same pink stone that marked every Peradaini fortification. It turned out to be a little smaller and a little closer than Tejohn had expected; it was no more than five stories high, if you included the peaked roof.
The rock face behind it looked to be normal stone. Arla had told him, back during their journey through the Sweeps, that the Northern Barrier had been fused into an unscalable wall as smooth as a sheet of beaten copper. Tejohn had to admit he wanted to see that, but apparently, it didn’t extend this far west.
On the northeastern slopes behind the tower, someone had cut terraces into the rock. There were many small patches of farm- and pastureland for some distance along the Northern Barrier. As they came closer, Tejohn realized there was another low cliff separating the terraced farmland from the tower grounds themselves.
The Freewell girl approached carefully. The winds--along with the sour smell--had become intense, and they had to shout to be heard. The cart itself trembled a little, as though the buffeting winds might shake it apart. Tejohn leaned over the side and was dismayed to see that it had been put together with bronze nails instead of a good, old-fashioned tongue-and-groove system with rope lashing.
The princess pointed toward the terraces. Someone was waving a red cloth in the air, obviously to get their attention. The sun was slowly dipping below the peaks to the west and Tejohn wanted them to hurry up, hurry up.
The Freewell girl turned the cart away from the tower and started toward the waving cloth. When they came close enough, they were directed t
o a terrace without crops. It made sense to set down on a fallow field, but Tejohn didn’t like the idea that the cart would be mired in the mud.
“You’re late!” a woman shouted as she sprang up a roughly-carved set of stairs. “We were expecting you before midsummer! And...” She looked over the four of them as they came over the rail. “You’re not the usual crew.”
The Freewell girl led the group through the muddy field. “We’re the unusual crew. Can you take us to a place we can rest? We’re exhausted and we’re in need of a sleepstone.”
“No sleepstone here,” the woman said. She had a deeply lined face and steel-gray hair, but her muscles were as thick and lean as any young spear. “We don’t have the people and we don’t have anyone to refresh the spells, not since the prince went hollow. No feast here, either. Everything was prepared for midsummer but no one arrived.” She started down the stairs, expecting the others to follow. They did.
“Who’s in charge here?” Tejohn asked.
“I’m chief servant,” the woman said. “Esselba Pick.” Others began to congregate at the edges of the terrace, hoes, pitchforks, and other tools resting on their shoulders.
“I’m Tyr Tejohn Treygar,” he responded. He’d just told the Freewell girl and her companions that there was no more empire, but if his old title made things a little easier, he would make use of it. “What news have you had of the outside world?”
“Little. We haven’t even had a Durdric trader through here in a month.”
“Let’s gather your people,” Tejohn said. “We have much to discuss.”
As he suspected, everyone in the little village was officially a servant of the Italga family, pledged to care for Ghoron in his tower. Since the prince had gone mad six years before, their only responsibility was to lower a basket of food onto the tower grounds twice a day, no matter the weather. That was it. The rest of the time, they lived like free people, and like free people in small communities everywhere, they were simultaneously curious and suspicious of outsiders.
The Way Into Darkness: Book Three of The Great Way Page 13
